A Good Omens Story
by CrowleyxAziraphale
Summary: Griffith is one of the finest, most well-trained assassins/hunters for Hell. When she is sent to Earth on a new hunt, she finds herself crossing paths with an old friend...or maybe he was an enemy. She wasn't sure anymore. What happens when Griffith has to decide between Hell's good books and freedom from it all? Will she take the chance and befriend a demon and an angel?
1. The Meeting

Sorry for how short this one is. I promise to have a longer one next time. Thought this was a pretty good opener, though. if anyone has any comments for me, please send a review :)

_Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens_

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Prologue

**The Meeti****ng**

She had never expected life in the "real world" would be so...difficult. There was so much school work and noise and so many...people. She wasn't the biggest fan of people. They tended to be loud and obnoxious and they apparently didn't know a thing about boundaries. Everywhere she went, someone was there to run into her. It was so, so annoying.

And she was the only one like her up here. She was alone and crowded and never left by herself all at the same time. It drove her absolutely nuts. Of course, it wasn't much different at her old home anyway. The others were always there, trying to get her to eat the rotten fruit or decaying meat they threw in her cage, constantly trying to get her to do something for them. They were still trying to do that, actually. Whenever she found herself alone wherever she happened to be at the time (which was usually in the public park, up in the tree she was currently sharing with a family of squirrels a few branches down), one of the demons would find her and try to get information about what was going on on Earth.

She had been sent to live up with the humans while she was still a bit young so she could have a younger body and fit in better with the population. It had been rather boring for a long time until she was given an actual assignment. She had waited for it for way too long! Something to do on her own (besides school work of course) was exactly what she needed.

But of course, one had to expect Hell to give you the most annoying job ever. She growled at the taller demon standing in front of her.

"_Babysitting?!_", she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him. Hastur stared at her with the pitch black orbs he called eyes, a seemingly mocking glint of amusement shining in them. The birds chirped around them in what seemed, to her, a much too cheerful way. The trees in the park almost seemed to lean down towards them, listening in on the conversation.

"Think of it more like...spying on what may be your next meal", he insisted. She stared at him for a moment longer before letting out an aggravated sigh. There was no fighting back against Hell. She'd learned that a while ago.

"Fiiiine", she growled and added with a slightly defeated tone, "Who am I spying on, anyway?"

Hastur grinned as he spoke, making a cold chill run down her spine. "You will be keeping an eye on the demon Crowley for us, Griffith."

Griffith's eyes shot open and she stood straight up. "_Him?_ Why him?! Crowley will kill me as soon as he sets eyes on me! He hates me!", she exclaimed, giving Hastur an incredulous look.

"Which is exactly why the powers of Hell have hand picked you specifically for this assignment", he said. His grin was beginning to make a knot form in Griffith's stomach. It was an ugly sight. "You are one of our best agents when it comes to keeping surveillance on rogues after all."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not trusting the praise. "And? What would I be getting out of this?", she asked.

"You do this for us and Hell will set you free to do as you please. All you have to do is tell us exactly what it is that Crowley does every day, we will tell you what to do from there and you do it." His yellow-toothed smile was starting to burn her retinas. She had never seen him grin like this before and it was utterly disturbing.

"If I don't?" Of course, at this point she was fully ready to take the job. She would do almost anything to be rid of Hell and its chains, but she was curious what his answer would be.

Hastur's eyes suddenly got darker (if that was even possible) and the smile vanished from his face. "You know all too well what comes from disobeying Hell's orders", he said in a voice that was much too calm. She held back a grimace and nodded. The smile came back, a little smaller now.

"Good. Off you go, then. I will give you…" he thought for a moment. "Three days to find him. I'll send someone to collect the information you gather every Friday afternoon. Do your job well, Griffith, or the Hell Hounds will be having you for dinner." The demon's eyes flashed in anticipation-for what, she didn't know-before he sunk into the ground, going back down to Hell.

Griffith let out a quiet growl. Only three days? She had to get on it. There was no way in Heaven she would get thrown in with those huge mutts.

The only thing that was keeping her between her well-earned freedom now was Crowley. She took a deep breath and walked out of the park, heading down the sidewalk and ignoring the people milling about around her. She knew exactly where to look first.


	2. In The House

Guys, I'm so sorry for how many times I've re-made this chapter. I was having a little trouble getting it to format correctly there for a bit. But, here we are now! I fixed it all up! Hope you enjoy this new chapter:) It's a bit longer than that last one

_Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens_

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Chapter One

**In The House**

Griffith walked until she found herself at the door to a flat. She hadn't seen the Bentley out front, so she guessed Crowley was out somewhere. She didn't have long. The long-haired brunette pulled a curved blade from her pocket and, quick as a snake, cut a near-perfect circle in the window, letting the glass fall out silently onto her hand. She held the circle of glass gently and stuck her right hand in the newly formed hole, reaching for the locks on the other side. The demon had added a couple since the last time she had broken in. Griffith soon had the door unlocked and she slipped inside, gently placing the glass back in the window and fixing it with a small demonic miracle. She re-locked the doors just in case he came back while she was still there and snuck through the house. Maybe she could find out more about him and give that information to Hell, too. She bet that would look at least a little good on her records.

She snuck into the back bedroom, looking for anything she could use against Crowley. As she searched around, she found a rather large bathroom and ideas immediately started flooding through her head. A toothy grin spread over her face, revealing the two premolars that were just a little longer and sharper than the rest of her teeth, subtly resembling fangs.

The hunter went into the bathroom and gathered up every last bit of toilet paper and began flushing it all down the toilet. Once she was down to one roll, she unraveled the whole thing into the bowl. She let that sit there and turned to the tub. She plugged the drain and turned on the water, letting it fill the bath as she grabbed all the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, body wash included. Anything shower-related. She dumped all of it in the slowly growing pool of water and left the room. She couldn't stop grinning to herself as she worked. She couldn't wait to hear what Crowley's reaction to this would be.

She sniffed out all of the alcohol in the flat, even the bottles that were hidden in secret compartments, and brought them into the bathroom. It took a few trips, but she finally managed to get it all in there and poured as much as she could into each of the newly-emptied containers of shower supplies. She placed them back in their spots and turned off the water flowing into the bathtub. She snickered as she dumped almost all of the remaining beer, liquor, scotch and the rest of it all into the water. She didn't drink, so the smell was awful to her, but she couldn't hold back a smile.

Once she finished with that, she turned the bath water back on and miracled the tub so it couldn't drain and the water wouldn't stop running. Griffith snickered and plugged the sink and turned the water on on it as well, doing the same miracle. Before she left the room, she took a look at her work, at the slowly rising water and alcohol. She remembered the toilet and gave it a quick flush, letting the spoiled water run over the edges of the bowl. Griffith quickly slipped out of the room before the water could reach her feet and miracled the door so it wouldn't let any of the water out until someone opened the door.

She had taken the remaining alcohol with her out of the room and now she headed to the plants. She had seen them when she walked through Crowley's room and an idea had sparked in her head. She knew how much he loved those plants. She stepped into the room and the plants almost seemed to reach hopefully to her, then she grinned demonically and brandished the first bottle. The plants recoiled from the aroma as she opened it and as she poured the alcohol all over their soil and leaves, they began to droop. She stood in the room for a long while, watching the plants droop lower and lower to the ground before deciding to do something else now.

Griffith stood in Crowley's bedroom with a smirk, trying to think of what to do next when the sound of keys in locks sounded from the hall. She went silent and rigid and leapt at the bed, swiftly diving beneath it. The door opened and she immediately recognized the footsteps that followed as Crowley's. She held her breath as she watched him enter the room, only being able to see his feet. He kicked off his shoes, leaving his socks on, and she guessed he took his glassed off as well from the sound of something small hitting the bed. She listened as the lean demon easily swung the black leather jacket off his shoulders and hung it in his closet before heading to another room. Griffith moved her eyes to follow his movements and a small grin crept over her face again.

She should probably leave now. That would be the safest option….but then again, she could also stay and revel in the chaos that was sure to ensue. Her smile widened as she heard a loud gasp and the sound of Crowley moving around the leaves of his precious plants. Looked like she was staying.

"What the Heaven happened to you all?!", he said aloud, his voice airy with disbelief. She had heard that his plants were the best in London, so when he walked into them dropping and dying, it must've been a real shock. Griffith heard him growl and stomp out of the room, muttering to himself. "Great. Just great."

She heard a loud yell of frustration and the slam of a few cupboards and figured he had found the empty spaces where all of his alcohol used to be. More frustrated shouts and bangs soon followed and by now, Griffith was fighting to hold back a giggle.

Then came the moment of truth. She didn't care if she got caught. She needed to see his face for this one. Crowley was stomping to his bathroom and Griffith hid behind a wall near him. She waited until she heard the doorknob turn before peeking her head around the corner, brows raised in anticipation.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The door opened and Crowley's slitted, yellow eyes shot open wide, his face contorting with shock and alarm just before the water slammed into him, knocking him into the back wall. The smell of watered down liquor and beer filled the hall while Crowley sputtered on the ground. Griffith was nearly on the floor as well, laughing her lungs out.

"That was priceless!", she said, her head hurting from the force of her laughter. She had had some nice pranks, but this was a real victory. Crowley's head shot towards her, his eyes wide before narrowing in pure fury.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?!", he yelled angrily, getting to his feet and lunging towards her with fury burning in his eyes. Griffith turned and ran out of the room, to the door. Crowley waved his hand, miricaling the door to stay closed, and Griffith swiftly crashed through the window instead. He began running and leapt nimbly through the window himself, onto the balcony.

Griffith had climbed up onto the railing, easily balancing on the metal bar as she turned to face him.

"See you later, serpent", she said with a smirk. Crowley ran for her, but she had already let herself fall from the ledge, her hair flying up around her face as she fell through the air. She twisted herself into a tight spiral, brown and black wings unfolding and a long tail emerging from her spine. She snapped her wings open and soared into the air, now in the form of what seemed to be some sort of giant secretary bird. The only differences, however, were the long, almost dragon-like tail with the oval of feathers at the end instead of the usual tail feathers, the short horns twisting from the back of her skull, the longer beak, and the mane of feathers running from the top of her skull down to the base of her spine. Griffith waved a talon at the enraged demon, still trying to calm her laughter, and flew above the greying clouds, hiding herself from view.

Crowley watched as the giant brown bird flew off and growled, his jaw tight with anger. How dare she come into his own home! And his plants! Oh, his plants! He would kill that demon. For now, though, he could only get to work on setting things right in his newly drowned flat. He stalked back inside, slamming the door, and headed to the bathroom.

With a quick snap, Crowley was dry. He didn't want to track water through his entire home. He quickly miricaled the tub and sink to act normal again and went to grab a few armfuls of towels. Once that was all settled and his bathroom was at least mostly dried up, he put a few towels down in the drenched hallway and went to take care of his plants. As he did all this, he planned different ways of catching that childish demon, Griffith. All the most painful ways to pluck each and every single one of her feathers off and shove them all down her throat.

He had known Griffith for quite a long while now and she had gotten on his nerves every time they ended up meeting. At one point, he had known her as a sort of partner in crime. Another demon who didn't do exactly what Hell told her or at least didn't want to. But now, she was just a nuisance. Hell apparently caught word of how much they disliked each other now and had sent Griffith to do her job and hunt him down.

Hunting. He never quite knew why demons liked hunting down their own kind, but he knew it was necessary for the worst demons, or at least the bad rogues, to get sent back down to Hell to be dealt with. Guess Hell had him on that list now, too. Fun.

"I'm going to kill her", he growled, miricaling his alcohol out of his plants. He finished up and threw away everything she had screwed up too much. All of the empty bottles were thrown out and the dead plants he brought to the back room to be turned to mulch. Crowley went back into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. He tore a hand through his hair and pulled out his phone, dialing a number.

"Hey. Meet me at the Ritz in an hour. I need a drink." He put his phone away, not waiting for an answer. He still smelled like booze from the alcohol in the water. He took a breath and shut the door. He needed a shower.


	3. An Angel, a Demon, and a Bookshop

Back again with a new chapter! Hope you all enjoy this one as much (if not more) than I did!

_Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens_

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Chapter Two:

** An Angel, a Demon, and a Bookshop**

Aziraphale checked his watch again and glanced out the window. Where was he? Crowley was almost never late when it came to drinking. Speaking of which, why had he said to meet for a drink at the Ritz of all places? He usually liked to get drunk in private in case he said something he didn't want others listening in on.

The angel took a sip of his champagne and waited for a while longer. A waiter came over, asking if he needed anything else, and he answered no, that he was just waiting for a friend. The waiter nodded at this and walked off again.

Aziraphale was almost finished with his second glass of champagne when Crowley finally walked in through the door. A waiter came up to him, saying something, but Crowley just walked past with an annoyed grunt. He sat across the table from Aziraphale. The angel's nose wrinkled up a bit. The demon smelled like he had already drank every bottle of scotch and liquor he had.

"What took you so long?" Aziraphale asked with a raised brow as he took another sip of his drink.

"Let's talk at the bookshop shall we?", Crowley said after a few moments of silence.

"You just got here!", Aziraphale said, a bit shocked. Why hadn't the demon just told him he would come there?!

Without answering, Crowley stood back up and walked swiftly back out to his car. The angel quickly paid for his drinks and followed after him, getting in the passenger seat.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?", he asked, looking quizzically at the demon who started the Bentley and sped through the city to the shop.

"A little bird decided to drop by for a visit", he finally growled.

Griffith sat in her tree, happily thinking over the events of the afternoon. She was back in her human form, sitting comfortably in the branches of her oak in the public park. She could only imagine Crowley's reaction when he found out about the shampoo bottles. Griffith chuckled to herself and lazily climbed down from the tree, thinking up a plan of what to do next. Hell wanted her to find information on Crowley, right? She smiled to herself.

The bird-like demon didn't get enough chances to spy on anyone. This would be fun.

Crowley sat across from Aziraphale in the back of the bookshop, bottle of whiskey in hand. It was already half-way gone by now. He had explained the whole incident at the flat to Aziraphale, who was trying not to laugh.

"What?", Crowley hissed at him, glaring with slitted yellow eyes. He had taken off his glasses and set them on the armrest.

"I mean", Aziraphale said, trying to calm down the giggles before they flowed out of his mouth, "it is a bit funny, don't you think?"

"No! Absolutely not!", Crowley nearly yelled. "She poured my alcohol all over my plants! A few of them died! Who does that?!" He growled, resisting the urge to throw his drink across the room. Aziraphale shook his head with a mix of pity and amusement, taking a small sip of wine.

"So", Aziraphale said, changing the topic. "You said this, Griffith, can turn into a giant bird?"

"The technical term is Firebird. They're birds from Hell that can light themselves on fire and are apparently very good at tracking from what I've experienced." Crowley growled, taking another drink before setting the bottle down. "It's extraordinarily annoying."

"Hmm. Perhaps those books about phoenixes were based on them", Aziraphale said thoughtfully.

Crowley let out a huff. "Humans. They never get animals right." He took another drink. "Anyway, the point is, she'll find me again soon and I need a place to hide out." He raised a brow at Aziraphale.

"What, here?!", the angel said incredulously, "In the bookshop?! What if she does find you here? What then? She could burn my books!" Crowley rolled his eyes. "Didn't you miracle this place to where no divine being could find it unless it was of utmost importance?", he asked knowingly.

Aziraphale stuttered for a second. "Well...yes, but-"

"Then there you have it!", Crowley cut in. "She can't find us in this place." He downed the rest of the alcohol and set the glass down on the table.

Griffith watched their conversation silently from behind a large shelf of books. Her now elongated, feathered ears twitched towards the angel and demon as they spoke. She had her ears in Firebird form so she could hear them better from farther away. She smirked at Crowley's last comment. It hadn't been all that hard to find him again from the smell of alcohol on his clothes and follow him to the bookshop. She had slipped in right behind him, not wanting the bell to ring if she tried to get in later on, and hid behind the stacks of books.

"I guess you're right", said the angel, seeming a bit on end even after the reassuring words. Griffith leaned forward slightly. She was a bit confused about the angel. Maybe that's why Hastur wanted her to keep an eye on Crowley. Because he suspected he'd been fraternizing with an angel. The more she looked at the bookworm and heard his voice, the more she thought she recognized him from somewhere…

That's it! He was the one she had tried to kill! "Ahhhh", she muttered with a small nod. Her slight smile faded as she remembered he was also the reason Crowley and her had stopped meeting up. The reason she had no one to talk to who even slightly understood her.

She had been sent by Hell to kill an angel that was sent to Earth, and so she had tracked down this particular angel to a small bakery. He was apparently meeting with Crowley, but she had assumed Crowley had accidentally been hired to kill the angel as well. She thought he was undercover or something. And so, she had left them alone to have their little chat and waited outside.

Once they had finished and came out, she waited just inside an alleyway between the bakery and the shoe-makers shop next door until the angel passed. She had grabbed his arm and pulled him into the dark, covering his mouth with one hand and pulling a dagger from her pocket with the other. The angel had kept trying to bite her hand, so she threw him into a wall, thankfully getting him to both stop trying to yell and keep him from fighting back too much.

She had her dagger ready for the kill (She'd had that specific set of daggers since she could remember, which was quite a long time. They were enchanted to go wherever she went, so she would have them even if she discorporated and were miricaled to where they could fully kill anything, meaning if she had achieved her goal, the angel would have ceased to exist.) and was about to get rid of the angel, but that was when Crowley rushed up and body-slammed her to the ground. The demon started choking her and Griffith gave him an utterly surprised, confused look.

He had grabbed a brick on his way to her, and raised it above his head, eyes flashing with absolute ferocity, and he brought it down. The last thing she remembered was absolute darkness, then a large room in Hell and over a week's worth of paperwork.

That was the last time she and Crowley had spoken on good terms. The last time they were even close to being demons who didn't hate each other for once.

She continued watching the conversation as they spoke, now a shine of anger in her eyes. Anger at the angel who had destroyed her only connection to Crowley. Anger at Crowley for killing her to protect and angel of all beings. Anger at herself for not realizing what was really going on at that bakery. She growled softly under her breath.

"Anyway. It's getting pretty late. Hell will want a full report for the week about any 'bad deeds' I've done." Crowley stood up from his chair and grabbed his dark glasses, slipping them back on. "I'll be back in a few hours", he added, heading through the bookshop.

Griffith shifted her ears back to human form and ducked behind a smaller stack of books in front of her as the other demon walked past.

"See you then, Crowley", Aziraphale called after him. The bell to the shop door rang as Crowley left and a small smile spread over Griffith's face. Now was her chance to get back at that angel. To finally finish the job she was given all those years ago. Surely Hell wouldn't mind her breaking her cover if it was to kill an angel.

She waited for the sound of the Bentley's engine to roar up and drive off before silently standing up, looking at the still-seated angel from the cracks in the bookshelf, and slowly, silently, came out from behind the shelf, stealthily closing the distance between them as she came up behind him. She quietly pulled her curved blades out from her pockets and flicked them both open.

Aziraphale's head moved slightly as he heard the sound of the blades cutting through the air and he turned with a confused expression to look behind him. His eyes widened in fear as Griffith raised her daggers, leaping at him with fury burning in her gaze.


	4. The Second Attempt

Hey guys! This one took a bit longer to get done, sorry about that. But, I finally finished up this chapter! Hope you enjoy :)

_Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens_

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Chapter Three

** The Second Attempt**

Crowley shut off the radio and sat back in his seat, letting out a breath as he drove back towards the bookshop. The talk with Hell was annoying, but he got it done and over with.

While he drove, Crowley straightened up a little, an unsure feeling nagging at him. It grew the closer he got to the shop.

Something was up. His eyes narrowed and he drove faster.

Aziraphale dove to the side, the lethal daggers stabbing into the seat where his heart and neck would have been. He quickly jumped back with a yelp as his attacker swung at him again, the blade drawing a line of blood across his forearm. He held his arm to himself and backed up, getting a good look at the demon's face.

"You!", he said in shock. How could she be here?! Crowley had only minutes ago said she wouldn't be able to find this place!

"Nice to see you, too", she growled, glaring shards of glass at him. Griffith advanced on him, backing Aziraphale into the corner. "You. You ruined everything good in my life."

"What are you talking about?", he asked, his voice confused and shaky with nerves, but still somehow holding strong indignance. "_You're_ the one who tried to kill _me_!", he pointed out.

"You're the reason he discorporated me. You made him afraid of me. You made him want to stay as far away from me as possible", she said, her gaze and her voice growing more intense with each sentence.

"Crowley? He was just protecting me! Everything bad that's happened to you, you've done to yourself", he said defensively. There was the flash of metal and a short burst of wind. Aziraphale gasped at the lightning-fast attack.

Griffith had him pinned by the neck with the dagger, keeping him pressed firmly into the corner, her large, powerful brown wings flaring out to either side in anger. A new fear bloomed in him at the pure fury in her eyes.

"None of what happened was my fault", she said in a low, hissing growl, her voice too quiet to be anything less than a death threat. "What happened then was because of you. I lost my only hope of anything even close to a friend because of _you_. Because you couldn't be a good little angel and _let me kill you_." She pressed the blade further into his neck, drawing blood.

Aziraphale winced, but the ghost of a hopeful smile flashed over his face. "Well, at least now I know we have something in common."

"We have _nothing_ in common, angel!", she yelled. Aziraphale backed further into the corner, feeling the tip of a second blade at his gut, ready to slice him open. He gulped, scrunching his eyes closed.

Griffith pressed her second dagger to the angel's stomach. This pitiful excuse of an angel knew nothing. She would have nothing in common with any angel. _Especially_ this one. She bared her teeth at him, letting her fangs show.

She felt flickers of flame gathering in her feathers, licking at the air around them. Griffith opened her mouth to yell at him again, but the sound of the bell on the shop door made her head shoot up. She realized her Firebird ears and her horns had replaced her human ears and normal skull as she snapped her head around, feeling the weight on the back of her head and her ears turning towards the sound.

"Crowley!", Aziraphale yelled, taking the chance to quickly push the blade away from his neck and shove Griffith away from him. The fire on Griffith's wings sputtered and died in her feathers.

"Angel!", came the alarmed response from the front of the shop. Griffith spun back around and slammed the side of her wing into the angel's head, knocking him to the ground with a pained grunt. She leapt into cover behind a shelf of books, pulling her wings close into her sides to keep them from hitting anything. She backed into a dark corner and stayed absolutely silent and still, hiding.

"Aziraphale, are you alright?", Crowley asked with worry in his voice, running into the back room and helping the angel up off the ground. Aziraphale groaned as he stood, holding his head, a purple bruise already forming on his pristine skin.

"She's here", Aziraphale said, looking at a spot behind a shelf.

Crowley narrowed his eyes sharply at the spot and gestured for Aziraphale to go to the front of the shop. The angel shook his head and opened his mouth to oppose him, but Crowley stopped the angel from talking, holding up a finger. He gave him a look that said "I need to deal with this alone". Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, but nodded and left the room, understanding the look even through the dark glasses.

Crowley turned back to the corner and strode over, his eyes blazing yellow slits behind the glasses. "Griffith." His voice came out in a low growl, his lip quirking up in a snarl.

Griffith's anger had drained away almost as soon as she saw Crowley enter the room, replaced instead with a deep sadness for her lost acquaintance. However, she hid it well and stood up taller in the corner.

"Crowley", she responded, her voice defensive.

"Why aren't you still in that cage?", he said with knives in his tone, his stance rigid. Griffith narrowed her eyes at him.

She had been put in a demonically miracled, metal cage in Hell after her failed attempt at killing the angel. The bars had burnt her as if they were covered in holy water every time she tried to escape, giving her a few painful scars (they went away after a few years) which showed up easily as she was locked in her original Firebird form and her feathers would fall away where her skin was burned.

The demons down there were very fond of nagging her and poking her with long metal spikes when they were bored and Hastur had been the worst. He would almost always come by to tell her how useless she was and how pathetic of an assassin she had proved to be.

Griffith opened her wings a bit to act like a shield. "Why aren't you killing that angel like you're supposed to?", she shot back. Crowley stalked forward, making her back closer into the corner. She hated being stuck in small places. It made her feel crowded and claustrophobic.

"There is no need for you to worry about him. The angel is my problem. Your problem, at the moment, is me", he hissed. "You need to leave. Go back to Hell, or whatever dumpster you crawled out of, and _never_ come back, you hear me?"

"No." Her answer was almost immediate. Her golden brown, sure eyes met his through his glasses. Crowley ground his teeth together.

"Wrong. Answer." A hand was suddenly wrapped around her throat, slamming her head into the corner. She bared her fangs at him as her air was cut off, choking her. She kept her eyes defiantly on his, a fiery shine flicking through them.

"You don't scare me, snake", she hissed in a rough voice, the lack of air making it difficult to talk. The grip got tighter and Crowley growled, digging his nails into her skin. She winced, scrunching her nose in discomfort.

"Crowley, is that really necessary?" The angel's voice startled both of the demons, making them turn their heads to the voice. Griffith held back a wince at the movement as it caused Crowley's nails to dig harder into her neck.

"Yes", the other demon said in a flat, stone cold tone.

"Oh, come now, Crowley. You don't have to hurt her", he said, gesturing to the already-forming bruises the demon's nails were causing on Griffith's throat.

"She tried to _kill_ you!", Crowley said incredulously, his voice rising a little in anger. "_Twice_!"

Aziraphale shifted his weight and shuffled his feet a bit. "Well, yes,...but she didn't." He looked at Crowley with a pleading gaze.

Crowley growled, clenching his teeth before looking back at Griffith. He jabbed a finger at her face and tightened his grip, making pain erupt through her neck. She thought she felt something shift in her throat from the force he used.

"I'm going to let go of your throat and maybe I won't kill you, _for now_," he started, looking at her over the top rim of his dark glasses with eyes full of hatred. Griffith relaxed just slightly for about a millisecond before his nails dug deeper into her throat, making her eyes water slightly. "But", he continued, "I'm not letting you out of my sight until all this is sorted out." He finally released her throat and grabbed hold of her arm, making sure to grip as tightly as he could. Griffith winced and cleared her throat a few times, subtly catching her breath as she gingerly rubbed the areas where Crowley's hand had been.

He pulled her out of the corner and back into the light of the room. She hid her horns and Firebird ears, letting them shrink back into their human form along with her wings. Aziraphale smiled lightly and nodded at Crowley in thanks and held out a polite hand toward a set of stairs.

"Now that that's settled, let us show you to your room for the night", the angel said nicely. 'For the night?', Griffith thought to herself. Where would they bring her tomorrow? Her thoughts were knocked off track as Crowley yanked on her arm, practically dragging her to and up the stairs. She followed quickly behind him, jaw clenched from how he was twisting her wrist.

They got to the room and the snake demon opened the door, throwing her inside.

"Hey!", she said, catching herself before she fell. She looked back only to see the door slam shut. She didn't hear a key, but she had a feeling Crowley had miracled the door to stay closed. Griffith narrowed her eyes and growled in annoyance before looking around.

The room was rather small, about the size of her Firebird wingspan from wall-to-wall on each side. There was one small window straight across from the door with thin, white curtains trailing on each side of it, but when she tried to pry and break the glass open to escape, she found that she couldn't. It was probably miracled to keep her in like the door was. The walls were the same brick as the rest of the building with only a couple of old fashioned paintings of books to spruce them up.

A small bed sat in the middle of the wall to the right of the door, a thin sheet and flimsy, greenish comforter laying limply across it and a small, squashed-looking, stained pillow resting on the short, wooden headboard. Griffith wilted a little at the sight of it. This would be an uncomfortable night. And that was coming from a being who felt comfort in the scratchy limbs of a tree.

At least there was a bookshelf to keep her company. It was a semi-tall structure across from the bed, reaching halfway up the wall and standing strong although it looked to be a solid eighty years old. It did have plenty of books and scrolls stacked in it, though. Griffith looked through them and smiled slightly to herself at the nice selection. There were all sorts of them, from the late thousands to the twenties and up until the current, all sorts of languages covering the spines (or labels for the scrolls).

A thick layer of dust lay over everything on the shelves, so when the demon picked up an older-looking scroll that crinkled a bit under her touch, a poof of dust rose with it and swirled into her lungs, making her cough a bit and back away from the bookshelf towards the bed. She waved the dust away from her face and cleared her throat a few times before sitting down on the edge of the raggedy bed.

The mattress felt stiff and creaked under her as the sat and Griffith scrunched her nose at it before carefully unrolling the top of the scroll. It read in a language no mortal knew, only meant for the eyes of angels and other heavenly beings. Griffith, though she was a demon, was able to read and write it fluently after centuries of study and practicing...and just a little bit of information given to her by chained-up and...motivated angels.

She scooted herself up to the headboard, shifting so the soft light of the setting sun could skim across the paper. Griffith settled in as well as she could on the rock-hard bed and began to read, letting herself get pulled into the angelic legends and myths of unheard of creatures as the light ever so slowly faded into the darkness of the night sky.


End file.
